Thank You For Keeping Me Safe
by amythedork
Summary: Officer Puckerman stumbles upon a group of drunken men harassing a very familiar girl in New York City. Written for the Valentines Exchange at 'puckleberryholidays' over on Tumblr. Rated T for adult themes and swearing.


_Happy Valentines Day to** ladyrainicorns**! I hope this is something close to what you were looking for, and that you enjoy it even if it isn't! :)_

_**Original prompt:** Puck is a cop and unknowingly saving Rachel from a group of guys in an alley. They're both about 24 and haven't seen each other since high school._

_All mistakes are mine._

* * *

><p>It's easily the best day of her whole entire life. It begins completely unspectacular – she wakes up at eight, has a shower, then leaves her cute little apartment to grab coffee and a bagel at her favorite bakery down the street. She takes along her laptop and grabs a table near the back of the small café, so that she's undisturbed as she eats her breakfast and checks her email.<p>

There's a very brief message from Kurt, with a link attached that directs her to "the most perfectly Rachel Berry dress that ever was and you should buy it _immediately_, because it was made for your legs, darling". It's stunningly beautiful, of course, but she doesn't have $400 spare to spend on a dress, though she does save the link in her bookmark folder that she's entitled 'Someday', and files it away with her dream shoes and dream apartment on the Upper West Side and dream vacation to Greece and dream little kitten she likes to call 'Maybelle' (named after the character in Hairspray).

When she's replied to the email about performing at a showcase in a high-end cabaret bar, she checks the Broadway and off-Broadway message boards, drumming her fingers impatiently against the table when she learns that nothing has been updated yet. She's been on a stream of auditions and callbacks over the last two months, ranging everywhere from Broadway to off-off Broadway. She's already been rejected from four parts (she didn't have the right look, or the right voice, and there was that one director who told her that her nose was too distracting, but he was pretentious and had ridiculous hair anyway, so it didn't bother her too much). She's waiting to hear back from her agent and until then, she's stuck performing in chorus numbers and in venues around the city. The pay isn't brilliant but it's enough, and the tips can sometimes be fantastic, so she won't complain.

She's barely arrived back at her apartment when her cellphone rings, and she dives to answer it, her heart skipping a beat when she sees her agent's name on the screen.

"Anna," Rachel answers straightaway, perching on the arm of the couch as she tries to control her heart rate. "Please tell me you have good news."

Anna laughs through the phone, and Rachel is instantly optimistic. "I have good news."

"You do?"

"Fantastic news, actually. Are you sitting down?" She sounds excited. Giddy, even.

"I'm sitting down," Rachel confirms, holding the phone tightly. Her heart is about to beat right out of her chest, she just knows it.

"I'm still waiting for news on Thoroughly Modern Millie," Anna says, and Rachel nods dumbly before realizing that her agent can't see her. "But don't get your hopes up. I hear that they're considering Daniella-"

"Anna. You know I consider you my friend as well as my agent, and I love you and I'm so grateful for everything that you do for me, but if you don't get to the good news then I will have to find an agent who doesn't keep me-"

Anna interrupts her, with a scoff. "You need me, babe. But okay. You've got choices, Rachel."

Rachel's eyes widen and she automatically rises from her sear and begins pacing the length of her living room. "Choices? Plural? Good choices?"

"Plural! Excellent choices! Okay, first of all - and think _carefully _about this – Broadway wants you as Maureen's understudy in Rent and-"

Rachel promptly screams, and she knows she'll be in so much trouble later from Mrs Miller across the hall, but she doesn't care. "Oh my God! Are you serious? Broadway wants me?"

Anna's laughing. "Yes, but Rachel-"

"I can't believe this, oh my God. I can't- Oh, I need to call my fathers! Kurt is going to die! This is just- Broadway! I'm going to have a heart attack!"

"Rachel! Focus. You have another option, remember?"

Rachel jumps a little on the spot, adrenaline coursing through her. "Who needs another option, Anna Banana, when _Broadway_ wants me?"

"But that's an understudy role, babe. You've been offered another part. Remember last February, when they were preparing that new musical, The Independents and you auditioned for Georgia? They've just got the funding to put it on off-Broadway, and they want you as the lead!"

"Are- Are you kidding?" Rachel's hand flies to her head in shock, because this is huge. "To lead a whole new musical? To originate the whole entire part?"

"Absolutely sure. Ryan Hanks was gushing over you, Rachel."

"I think I'm dying, Anna," she says dramatically, because she's floating. Flying far away from reality.

"I'm almost certain that you're not."

… … …

When Rachel hangs up the phone, she cries. Real tears; huge sobs that shake her entire body. She's so _happy_. This is exactly what she's been waiting for. The moment she's envisioned since she was six years old. It's rather overwhelming, and she thinks that she might just throw up. She doesn't though, and instead she collapses on the couch, her head spinning.

To understudy on Broadway? Or to lead something new?

She googles The Independents, and there isn't too much information, just a buzz that it's supposed to be new, fresh and fantastic. She remembers reading some of the script before her audition, and she found it excellent. Witty and cute, meaningful and full of symbolism.

But then there's Maureen. One of the roles she's always wanted to play. A role that's well-known and longed for by so many people. And it's on Broadway. You just can't get higher than Broadway.

… … …

When she races over to Kurt's apartment to tell him the news, he cries too. She knows that he's at least 75% happy for her, and only 25% jealous. She tells him that, and he doesn't disagree. She smiles, suddenly overcome with a sudden rush of love and fondness for her best friend.

"We must celebrate!" he declares, and Rachel shakes her head no, because she's an up-and coming-star now, and she has a reputation to uphold. When she tells Kurt this, he rolls his eyes and points out matter-of-factly that barely anyone even knows who she is yet.

"But I can't have old haunts from my past tarnishing my future career!" Rachel protests, though she's perfectly aware that Kurt is ignoring her completely as his hands fly over the buttons on his Blackberry, texting all of their mutual friends about getting together tonight.

"Shut up, we're going," he says simply, as he pushes the send button, a very satisfied smile on your face. "And you're going to wear those drop-dead-gorgeous heels you bought last month, and you'll look so attractive that no man will be able to resist you. Your friends will lavish praise and compliments and attention upon you, and we'll dance and drink cocktails, and generally have a wonderful evening. Like Sex and the City but better."

Rachel thinks about that for a second and then smiles. She's always loved attention, and that is most definitely not a secret. She leans back against Kurt's beautiful white leather sofa and lets out a deep breath. She's kind of emotionally exhausted, but in the best way possible – overwhelmed and happy. Still, she's far too worked up to even think about taking a nap. Besides, now she has to go home and dig through her closet of sale-bought dresses to find something to match the beautifully outrageous heels that Kurt persuaded her to buy.

Today is a wonderful day.

… … …

She promised herself she wouldn't get drunk. And she's not really, it's just that her friends keep buying her celebratory drinks from the cocktail menu and she feels rude saying that she doesn't want them. Still, she's having such a nice time that she suddenly finds herself a little bit tipsy.

It's after midnight and she's giggling like crazy in her favorite club. Kurt is standing in front of her, trying to pull her up and whining that she should sing Take Me or Leave Me with him, even though the music in the club is so loud that they wouldn't even be able to hear themselves.

Eventually, she lets Kurt pull her to her feet, and she drains the small amount left of her mojito before pointing right at her best friend and singing to him loudly and rather obnoxiously.

"Every single day, I walk down the street…"

There's catcalls and clapping, and Rachel's face is flushed and the tiniest bit sweaty, but she doesn't care. She throws her head back and laughs, because she is absolutely in love with today. Her feet are beginning to hurt in these monstrous shoes of hers, but she stalks towards Kurt anyway, takes his hand and spins underneath his arm, before pulling him into a crushing hug. He complains a little that she's wrinkling his shirt (of course he does), but it doesn't take him long before he's hugging her back, and yelling in her ear.

"I'm so proud of you, superstar. Also, will you let me meet all your future famous friends?"

… … …

Almost two hours later, Rachel's ready to leave. She's mostly sober now, after insisting that everyone simply bought her bottles of water instead of glasses of mysterious drinks. She's much too warm; the club is packed with sweaty bodies, and she's tired from dancing and laughing so hard. She wants nothing more than to crawl into her bed and dream of bright lights and standing ovations.

"I think I'm going to head home," she tells her friends, smiling as they boo her. "Thank you all for a truly wonderful night!"

"Will you be okay getting home?" Jenny from networking asks, kissing her cheek. "I'll help you get a cab?"

Rachel shakes her head. "No, no. I'm only six blocks away and the fresh air will do me good. I'm fine, really."

A very loud, high-pitched Kurt envelopes her in a hug and makes her promise that she'll call him tomorrow, "but not before two because I'm going to be disgustingly hungover and if you wake me then I'll take your stilettos and embed them lovingly in your chest". He finishes his violent statement with a bright, drunken smile, and goes back to grinding against Tom, their mutual friend from college. Rachel giggles, blows him a kiss and makes her way to the exit, trying not to lose herself in the crush of dancers.

It's mid-June and the night air isn't cold, which she's grateful for, since she didn't bring a cardigan or a jacket. But she's warm, and the mild breeze feels nice against her skin, so she ignores the short line of cabs and begins walking in the direction of her apartment. She knows the city like the back of her hand, especially this area, so she's not the slightest bit worried about being alone in the city in the middle of the night.

Until she hears loud, drunken yelling behind her. Arguing. Swearing. The sound of a bottle smashing against the pavement.

Rachel spins around then, terrified that someone has been injured. However, there's no sign of anyone looking cut and bloody. There seems to be a mild argument going on and she thinks someone just dropped the bottle as opposed to resorting to violence. She's relieved.

There's about five men a short distance behind her. They're obviously completely wasted. Two of them are almost over-the-top muscular and one of the two is the tallest man she's ever seen. He's a little frightening. The others aren't as scary, but they look sleazy, and they're slurring their words, and wolf-whistling at a girl that just got into a cab, so she wants away from them as soon as possible.

They see her then, and she immediately blushes and spins around, away from them, her steps a little quicker than before, even if each step makes her foot burn with pain from these ridiculous shoes.

"Hey gorgeous," one of the men shouts from behind her. She pays no attention. "Come play with us, yeah?"

Rachel keeps walking, though she pulls her over-the-shoulder bag around to her stomach, discreetly rummaging through it for her keys with the pepper spray keychain. It's better to be safe than sorry, after all, and although she desperately hopes that she won't have to use it, she needs to be ready just in case.

"C'mon baby, don't be like that," a deeper voice calls out. His words are jumbled, unclear, and she knows that they're following her. "We're nice guys. Just looking for a good time."

"What's your name, lady?"

Rachel's hand clenches into a fist around the pepper spray and chews nervously on her lip as she increases the pace of her steps, growing more and more scared with every passing moment.

"We know you want it too, baby. Look at the way you're dressed. Slut. We can practically see those little panties of yours."

Rachel needs out of here. It's getting far too much now, and she wishes that she'd just taken a cab. She'd never been in this situation before, and she's terrified. Goosebumps erupt all over her skin. What creeps.

"Hey, bitch! We're talking to you!"

They sound angry now, and Rachel whimpers to herself, her eyes darting around to find witnesses. There are a few cars passing and a couple of people heading into apartment buildings, but that's it, and she suddenly wants to cry. It's New York City, and for the first time in her life she can't see a single cab around.

She turns the corner and breaks into a little run before they turn too. She staggers in her heels slightly, squeezing her eyes tightly closed as she hears familiar voices round the corner behind her. She prays silently in her head, that the men are just drunk and messing around, as opposed to really dangerous.

"Don't be scared! We all want to have fun here, right? C'mon, sexy," they're calling to her again, and she's aware then that her hands are trembling slightly. This is ridiculous. Who do these men think they are, making a young woman so uncomfortable? She'd call them out on it, except she's absolutely terrified that she's going to be raped or murdered, and although she'd finally get the TV coverage she's always wanted, she most definitely doesn't want it like this.

There's heavy, faster footsteps approaching her, and her blood turns to ice. They're running. They're chasing her. She breaks into a light jog, but it's no use. Suddenly the second-largest man is in front of her, and her eyes are wide, horrified. He's sneering, and she flinches when he reaches out to touch her shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Rachel snaps, and the guy laughs a little bit. His breath is boozy and disgusting, and the smell makes Rachel's stomach lurch.

"Look boys, we have a feisty one!" The man sounds almost triumphant, and Rachel moves to step aside, but he blocks her path with an easy smile. "Look at what you're wearing babe, showing off those hot little legs of yours. You're basically asking for us to take care of you. You'd like that, yeah? I bet you would. All five of us."

"Leave me alone," Rachel demands, and she's proud that her voice is clear and strong, and despite how nauseous she feels and how much she's shaking, it doesn't tremble at all.

The others have approached her now, and she wants to disappear. A few cars pass down the street but the drivers either don't notice that something's wrong, or they don't care.

"Come on Jack, maybe we should just get out of here. Remember what happened last time?"

Last time? Rachel closes her eyes, because she just can't take this. Her throat is thick and her eyes are stinging with unshed tears. She needs to leave. Right now. But they're surrounding her, and they're much bigger than she is, and there is absolutely no way she can escape safely.

But she has to.

Feeling a sudden surge of bravery, Rachel takes her small fist and hits Jack's face as hard as she can. Pain shoots through her entire hand, but it doesn't matter, because they're distracted enough for her to make her escape. She shouts loudly, desperate for help.

"That bitch!" The fury is clear in Jack's voice, and just as Rachel breaks into a run, he reaches out to grab her arm tightly. Rachel yelps in pain, but her free hand is ready, clutching her pepper spray. Aiming it directly in his eye, she pushes the little button. Jack suddenly howls in pain, and lets go of her arm to cover his eyes.

Rachel sprints then, and she's pretty sure that she's going to break her ankle, but she'll take a broken angle over anything that those men were going to do to her. She's running faster than she ever has in her entire life, the adrenaline pumping through her and keeping her going, and she thinks she's crying, but she can't be sure.

There's angry yelling. Footsteps coming after her. Rachel screams for help and runs faster, ducking around the nearest corner then taking another corner. She's going in the wrong direction of her apartment, but she just needs a hiding place, a cab, a person, anything to get her to safety. She can hear them shouting, wondering out loud how they can shut her up.

She takes another corner, then freezes. It's a dead end, the back alley of some little restaurant.

Rachel very rarely swears, but a petrified 'shit' escapes her lips, and she presses herself against the wall by a set of trash cans in the hope that the men will run right past her.

This day had started out as her lucky day, but there's clearly not even one little ounce of luck left. One of the smaller men catches sight of her instantly as they sloppily and drunkenly run past the alleyway, and her frightened eyes meet his unfocused ones.

He stops, stumbles, then shouts, and Rachel wants to run but there's nowhere to run to. All she can do is wait for them to reach her, and punish her for injuring Jack. She hides her face in her hands in despair.

Except suddenly there's another voice, a new one, and it's gruff, strict, and a little sarcastic.

"Is there any particular reason that you're just hanging around a dark alley, or…?"

"No reason, ociffer," the reply is slurred, clearly drunk, and Rachel's heart soars. Officer. She's safe. "Move along."

"I don't think that's for you to decide." His tone is cold. He's obviously not prepared to take any trouble, and Rachel's so relieved that she could just break down. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"You know who. I heard her shouting for help and I'm taking that shit seriously. Now, considering there's no one else around other than you douchebags, who happen to be drunk off your ass, and this guy looks like he's been drowned in pepper spray, m'guessing that you know exactly where this girl is."

"Look, sir, we don't know nothing-"

Rachel chooses that moment to make her entrance, and steps out from where she's been hiding, pressed against the trash cans. Her cheeks are wet with silent tears, and everyone looks in her direction at the sound of her heels against the pavement. She looks straight at the police officer, her eyes pleading for help, when her mouth drops open, and a strangled-sounding squeak escapes her lips. She knows that man. Noah Puckerman. From Lima, Ohio. She thinks this whole entire ordeal must be a nightmare, because none of this makes any sense at all.

She'd give anything for this to be a nightmare, she really would.

Noah looks at her, his gaze completely focused on her for a second, before he nods then furrows his brow. He reaches for the radio on his shoulder, and talks calmly and quickly into it, asking his partner for help. She instantly hears the sound of police sirens and it soothes her, as she stands frozen in place, shivering in the aftermath of all that's happened. There's blood on her knuckles. She really thinks she's going to be sick.

The men generally look dizzy and confused, but one of the taller guys makes a sudden motion to run, but the officer's hand claps down firmly on his shoulder, and he speaks with a controlled anger that makes even Rachel nervous. "Running will only make it worse, asshole."

Noah looks at Rachel, his voice soothing. "Don't move, okay? I'll deal with you in just a second."

She nods, and leans against the wall, suddenly absolutely exhausted. She ignores the sound of the awful men making excuses and concentrates only on the fact that she's safe.

She can feel the Noah's eyes on her the entire time as he talks harshly to the men, handcuffing two of them and keeping a firm grip on another. Two of them make a run for it before he can reach them, and Noah swears angrily, but he's obviously not too worried about it, so Rachel tries not to be either.

In just seconds, an NYPD van pulls up, and another officer climbs out, instantly handcuffing the other man, who's crying, pleading with him, blaming everyone but himself. Noah and his partner ignore him, and speak to each other in low, urgent tones, before the second officer begins bundling the three men into the van, talking into the radio about the two that escaped. Noah lets him deal with that and heads over to Rachel, immediately taking her hand to examine the injury.

"Looks like you got an awesome punch thrown in there, huh?" He asks, his tone still soothing and friendly like before. "Did they touch you, Rachel?"

He remembers her. Of course he does. She could tell by the expression he wore when he caught sight of her. She shakes her head. She doesn't think she can speak right now.

"We're gonna have to take you in to the office for a statement, okay?"

She nods weakly, but she's scared at the thought of riding in the same van as them. Of course they wouldn't touch her, not now, but the idea still unnerves her, and Rachel looks in the van's direction cautiously. Noah must be able to pick up on it, because he smiles calmly and explains to her that they'll be taking another car.

"Thank you Noah," she manages, and he just nods and lets her lean on him for support as the van pulls away and a squad car comes to a stop on the street beside them.

… … …

Noah makes things as easy for her as possible. The statement doesn't take long to fill out, and pictures are taken of the fast-forming bruise on her upper arm where she was grabbed. He cleans up her split knuckles and gets her a cup of tea and a couple of cookies for the shock. She doesn't feel much like eating, but she does as she's told, because she's tired and exhausted and just wants to go home as fast as possible. Plus, it's good to have something to do while she waits to be released.

"So," says Noah, when she's sipping on her tea, curled up on one of the chairs. "What a way to have a reunion, right?"

"It certainly makes a good story," Rachel remarks dryly, and she sits down her mug, meeting his eyes. "What will happen now?" She's referring to the guys who chased her, of course. Noah picks up on that easily.

"We'll catch the two that got away. Their 'friends' have pretty much squealed on them anyway, so it won't be difficult. Then, probably a court case. You might have to give evidence, unless they plead guilty straight away."

"Oh," Rachel hates the thought of that, telling a room full of strangers what happened, but she simply nods, accepting it. Noah is still looking at her intently, and she suddenly feels self-conscious under his gaze. She smoothes down her dress, tugging it over her thighs. "What?"

"Nothing," he shoots her a small smile. "How ya holding up?"

She sighs a little. "I'm just tired. I'll be okay." She tilts her head back so that she's leaning against the seat, cradling her mug in her hands. "How long will I have to wait here?"

Noah chuckles sympathetically. "Not too much longer. We're waiting for some paperwork to finish processing then I'll give you a ride home."

Rachel nods again, fighting the urge to close her eyelids and sleep. "Thank you for helping me. You were very brave." Her voice is mumbled and sleepy-sounding.

She smiles a little as Noah scoffs. "They were just wasted and fucking stupid. They didn't even have weapons. I have a kick-ass gun, so they didn't stand a chance against me."

He's just the same as she remembers him. Only older. And maybe a little bit more mature, she doesn't quite know yet. "Always a badass, Officer Puckerman. Are police offers even allowed to swear like that?"

He grins cheerfully at her, ignores her question. "You know it, Berry. So how's the stage treating you?"

She's grateful for this, that he's making conversation, changing the subject from her horrible night to a much happier subject. She smiles a little bit harder at her news, and sits up straighter in her seat, making more of an effort.

"Things are going wonderfully. I got some fantastic news today," she says with a little more enthusiasm than she had a moment ago. Noah raises an eyebrow at her and she explains about her offers, a little bit of color returning to her face as she talks.

"Yeah?" he says when she's finished. "That's fucking awesome, Rachel. Congrats."

She thanks him, settling back into her seat. "So what's your story?"

Noah opens his mouth to speak but it's then that his colleague – Officer Lloyds, Rachel has since learned – returns to the room waving a folder.

"You're good to go, Miss Berry," he nods at her. "If there's anything we can do for you, let us know. We'll be in touch about the court case."

"Are you sure you don't want me to call someone?" Noah asks her seriously, as he picks up his jacket. "Kurt, right? You're still friends with him? You might feel better having someone stay with you tonight."

Rachel thinks about the state Kurt was in when she left the club and shakes her head with a small smile. She's not worried about being in her apartment alone. She lives in a very secure building (her daddies made sure of that before she signed the contract), and it's very nearly morning time anyway. She doesn't need anyone to look after her. What happened tonight was horrifying, yes, but the men have been locked away and there are cops out looking for the other two. It's not as if they're coming to find her.

"No, I'll be just fine," Rachel replies with a kind smile. "Thank you though." She rises from her seat, stretching her limbs one by one. Her arm feels the tiniest bit stiff from the bruising, but she'll take it over anything else that could have happened to her tonight. Noah takes the cup from her and sits it on a table, before folding his jacket across his arm. Grabbing a set of keys from a hook, behind the desk, he gestures to Rachel, who follows him out of the precinct and down to a small car park full of police cars.

"Your story?" Rachel prompts him as she climbs into the passenger seat of one of the cars. She fastens her seatbelt then instantly curls her legs up, looking tiredly at Noah. He chuckles a little and as he drives, he begins telling her about getting into the Lima Police Department and how he wanted more adventure than just break-ins and mild car accidents. It was time for a fresh start anyway, he tells her, and so he moved out to the city, and he's loving every minute of it.

Somewhere between the part where his first apartment had a "fucking horrible rat infestation", and stupidly hooking up with his roommate which made things "awkward as fuck", Rachel falls asleep facing him. She thinks it's sweet that he doesn't wake her up until he's pulled up to her apartment building, and that he's even sweeter for insisting upon walking her right up to her floor.

"I can't thank you enough," Rachel says, and then promptly yawns, making Noah laugh at her.

"I'm glad I got there in time," he tells her seriously, then nudges her a little. "Get some rest, Berry. You know where to find me if you need me."

She nods, unlocks her door, and Noah begins to walk away. "Goodnight, Noah. It was good seeing you, despite… everything. If I had known you were in the city, I would have-"

He flashes her his familiar wink and cuts her off. "Good seeing you too, Rach. Go to sleep."

She does. Slowly at first, because she can't stop thinking about everything, and then all at once.

… … …

Her fathers and Kurt are horrified the following afternoon, when she tells them the story of what happened to her. Her dads cry and insist upon coming to visit her and making sure she's okay, but she insists that she's fine, and that they definitely don't need to do that. Kurt goes pale, and tells her that he's glad she's safe but stupid for not calling her afterwards. He brightens up a little when she tells him about Noah though, and Rachel laughs at him, but indulges him in information about their old friend.

… … …

She's more than a little scared when going out now, though Google assures her that it's very normal to feel that way. She takes cabs a lot more often, and she enrols in two different self-defence classes, one on Mondays and one on Thursdays, just to be on the safe side. For the first couple of days after the attempted attack, Rachel was reluctant to leave the apartment at all, unless Kurt or another friend was with her. She managed though, and although she makes sure she's never alone when it gets dark, she's pretty okay with getting around now.

It was just a terrible coincidence that it happened to her. It could have happened to anyone, anytime. She's a strong young woman - she won't let it affect her.

… … …

When just over a week has passed, Rachel feels that she owes the police officers a small gift for taking such good care of her. She spends the entire morning in her kitchen baking over forty cookies for the boys at the precinct. She couldn't decide which flavour to make originally, so she made three; coconut, chocolate chip, and oatmeal and raisin. Her kitchen is a disaster by the time she's finished, but the cookies look wonderful.

She arrives at the police station laden with five tins stuffed full of cookies and the receptionist looks at her like she's insane when she smiles brightly and asks for Noah Puckerman. The receptionist notifies him and he arrives in the room to greet her in what seems like seconds. He raises his eyebrows at all of the tins.

"What did you do?" He's laughing, and Rachel smiles back with a shrug of her shoulders.

"I baked you guys some cookies!" she replies cheerfully, and wow. He looks good. Incredibly good. Obviously she hadn't been in the right state of mind to notice the last time she saw him, but right now, he's laughing at her, and she's… She's noticing.

Noah grabs the tins from her easily and jerks his head in the direction of a doorway. "Come on then. The guys are gonna love you for this."

"Oh no, I shouldn't…" Rachel trails off then cocks her head to the side, contemplating. "Okay then."

When Noah's colleagues and friends in the staff lounge realize that the cookies are for them too, they wolf-whistle and applaud her, and Rachel giggles, blushing deeply. They make the biggest fuss over her, and she's given coffee and what's known as "the good couch". She loves every single second of this attention she's receiving, and she can tell by the way that Noah's looking at her that he knows that too. He perches on the arm of her chair as the others scramble for the cookies, and Rachel looks up at him.

"I just felt I needed to-" she begins, but Noah cuts her off by putting his hand over her mouth. Rachel's eyes widen in surprise.

"Shut up. It's kind of my job. You don't need to keep thanking me."

Rachel jerks her head away from his hand and glares at him. "That was rude."

He only grins at her and Rachel sighs at him, shaking her head.

"So, been thinking about me, huh?" He's teasing her. Her cheeks flush pink.

"No, I-"

"Don't lie, Berry."

"Stop interrupting me!"

She's suddenly overcome with memories of their banter in high school, conversations that once sounded almost identical to this one. She's almost certain that he feels the same, because he doesn't reply, just raises his eyebrow in that infuriating way he's always done, and leans back, wearing that infamous smirk of his. She rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling.

"Feels familiar, doesn't it?" She asks, and he nods, reaching over to grab a chocolate chip cookie straight out of Officer Lloyd's hand.

"How have you been since, you know?"

"Okay," Rachel replies simply, considering her answer for a second. "As well as can be expected, I should think. I was initially a little shaken up, of course, but I think I've been handling things well."

"Good," Noah nods, satisfied with her answer. "M'glad you're okay."

She looks at him for a second, then over his shoulder. "Is that a foosball table?"

Noah follows her gaze. "Sure is. You wanna play or something?"

Rachel nods eagerly, and follows him over to the table, grabbing the tiny white ball. "I'm outstanding at this game. It's one of my many talents."

Of course Noah challenges her. Of course he does. "You're not better than me, Broadway. Not a chance."

She finds that she likes the nickname. It's kind of adorable, and she smiles to herself. As she drops the ball onto the table and instantly starts moving her little plastic players, she meets his eyes. "What do I get when I win?"

Noah answers straight away, not missing a beat. "My number. If I win, I get yours."

Rachel stops, and straightens up, watching him for a second before pressing her lips together in a horrible attempt to hide her smile. "Okay," she says simply.

"Yeah?" He's looking for confirmation, almost as if he thought she'd reject him.

"Yes," Rachel laughs at him, hitting the ball straight into Noah's goal. "But you'd better get your act together first, Puckerman. I'm winning."

He dives into the game then, and when he scores twice in the space of thirty seconds, Rachel thinks he'll probably win, but she doesn't really mind. She thinks she'll benefit from his victory just as much as he will.


End file.
